


The Cat That Knew How to Cry

by SunkenGardens



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Criminal!Chat Noir, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Historically Inaccurate, Maybe definitely sexual tension, Medieval AU, Middle Ages, So many AUs, Witch!Marinette, adrien is a cat, and SIN, because I'm weak, genetic mutations, get ready, heYO, just a sad story, mental problems, no Plagg or Tikki at the moment, plenty of fluff to mend the sadness, sometimes, sort of Ladynoir but not really? It's more of a concept, spells & magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunkenGardens/pseuds/SunkenGardens
Summary: Maybe he would find his good luck. Or maybe his band of black would forever shut him in.
xMarinette is a young witch living in a small house in the woods. She isn't the greatest of what she could be, and she wants more than anything to reach her absolute best. But when a mischievous blond boy comes into her life with an unusual story, she agrees to go with him to see the Guardian; a wizard who the boy promises can give you the solution to any dilemma.
Only problem is, you need a pure heart, of confidence, selflessness, integrity and empathy. And let's just say between the two of them, they are really starting to have second thoughts about all of it.





	1. Prologue

In another time, maybe there would be no magic.

 

*

 

The air is always colder when you're really alone.

When magic is suitably punishable by death, and you have been made into someone you hate out of someone you can't even remember; the last few pieces of love in you wilted away and the years left in your life are dwindling on single digit numbers, you could never feel more alone.

For someone like Chat Noir, it's always been lonely.

But all that was until he met her.

 

From a genetic mutation so rare and so little understood, that it is literally impossible to trace it back to where it started, magic had wormed its way into humanity. Early reports claim that it was out of control and confusing, but later it became accepted as a part of human nature, and was pulled apart and analysed obsessively by anyone and everyone. However, with limited technology to gather much or any accurate information, research was futile and practically abandoned, instead people turned to the practice of it; testing the limits of the supernatural and the phenomenal.

The 15th century marked the real boom in magic. The same attitude and perspective apparently carried on for a long time after that. But where there was a group of people with special powers making a rise, there would always be the loud minority of those who couldn't work magic and therefor felt it was bad. They were bitter, thought it wasn't right, or held a sickly type of jealousy that ultimately went too far. They were the kind of people that regretfully made up most humans on earth.

Then soon those with no special attributes became a _majority_ , effortlessly overpowering the tiny fraction of people who did. The backlash came like a stake through the stomach, and mutants and magicians were pummelled by every end of the social hierarchy — and eventually the laws forbidding all kinds of magic. It was gruesome and disturbing. Most bodies burned and left for everyone to forget about. Soon it was so hardly ever welcome anymore, that most who had mutated took their life or had it taken from them by force. Some people tried to protest, but your voice couldn't get very far back then. It honestly was a shame that these things that could have been so great, wound up with such an undeserving fate.

Mutations were now nearly unheard of. And any smart person who had the genetic anomaly would flee or hide it from others as soon as they discovered it within themselves.

What they didn't understand however — and for people such as them, they never could — was that mutated genes were not, and _did not relate in any way_ , to magic. In fact, what were actually mutated genetics that somehow were not seen as defective or harmful to the body or continuous bloodline, slipped through fertility and development in the womb and left the newborns with a genetic structure that coded for things in the body that scientifically should be impossible. So really, the sudden mutations were just a spur of nature.

Mutations were inevitable, permanent. Real, actual magic was different. All it required was a powerful mind and an extraordinary ability to _understand_. It was not something you were born with.

However, society instantly linked the two together. They made the mistake of calling the wonderful and captivating anomalies of humanity witchcraft. To them, the abnormal was absurd, and the special inappropriate and disgusting. There was no help for the people like them who had rejected it before they even knew it.

And it was all because of that loud minority.

Adrien had ended up mutating twice, giving him a grand total of two mutations. Something so rare, he was pretty sure he was the only one like him still alive at the moment. Not that that would be very hard to get to considering the virtually obsolete mutant and magician numbers still around.

Both mutations had been with him since birth, like all mutations are. His inky black power of destruction was his dominant one. It had been actively with him the longest and was the root of all his problems. It came to him as a burden and it's taken years to control at a stable level; mostly because he had the help of a magical binder to even out it's power. _Frustratingly,_  his mutation naturally meant he was basically a walking, talking personification of bad luck. _Divine._

A little later he accidentally discovered how to shapeshift — his second mutation since birth. Although that one he kept to himself as soon as he found out how bad enough it was to have just _one_ mutation.

His partner, who he was travelling with, was not a mutant. She was able to do incredible things with magic. She was clever and resourceful. Quite the plus to have on his side. She was great company, too.

His spring-green eyes flickered like a candle over to the midnight-haired girl in question beside him.

She'd told him that she was a performer of magic without the use of a mutation. He had _believed_ her for a long time, until he couldn't ignore the knicking gut feeling his mind had previously been ignoring.

She was quite fortunate, and not just because she was a witch with the benefit of spells. She never seemed to need magic to be lucky. He wasn't sure if she realised or not.

At first he was afraid his complete, polar-opposite, _god awful_ luck would clash with hers and they would be a walking disaster together.

But what he hadn't initially considered, and moreover was surprised to discover, was that instead of colliding like two solid metals, they bleed together like water and wine, creating a harmonious balance.

Now, instead of luck, he had chance.

It made life a lot less frantic sometimes.

When he asked her about her outrageous good fortune she dismissed him or carefully avoided the subject. While it intrigued him, it also meant he never got a straight answer and was left to think about it. What could she have to hide? He'd been pretty open about his mutations. There truthfully wasn't a lot of bad things one really _could_ hide. The worst thing he could think of was that she was actually planning to outweigh his luck and use it against him. But was she _really_ like that? (No, because Adrien wasn't an idiot. He would have known in a heartbeat if something was up and abandoned her on the spot without a second of hesitation.)

Yet still, each time he was shot down before he could even recover. He tried to hide his hurt behind his care-free façade.

She was such a mystery; like a book that was never written. Every day she found another way to steal his breath right out of his lungs and stop his heart. He was left confused and frustrated that someone could hold so much of his attention.

He was so engulfed by her, so utterly captivated that she ended up taking up his every day, and eventually she was wriggling into his dreams as well. He was never safe, everything just led him right back to her — this beautiful, strange mystery.

She was a forest fire, and he was leaf litter sitting her way.

It was early dawn, and the air that brushed across his cheeks like soft fur was freezing and chilled his skin down to the bone. A lone bird call broke the silence and reverberated deafeningly through the trees, but when the same thick, soundless air returned to them it made him wonder if he even heard it in the first place.

A second later and he confirmed he wasn't crazy in his numbed-useless mind when he saw her, _her_ chilled-blue eyes look up past dark eyelashes through the fur trim on her hood. They swept over the high tree branches for the offender, but all of it was lost to him. He didn't know what she was looking at, because _he himself_ , his _weakened_ self-control was telling him to _just watch her_.

He was so afraid that one day he would lose her. Or would wake up and have never even known her.

Her warm breaths blew steam past her lips, the hot air clashing with the frosty atmosphere.

Her plaster-white skin could give the snow blanketing the woods a run for their money. Her red nose and cheeks, bitten by the cold. Her delicate build. Her bright blue eyes that challenged the day. The thick framing of eyelashes around them. Her rose-pink stained lips, the elegant curve of her jaw.

He barely even noticed when his hand had risen up to touch her cheek until she directed those pretty blues right at him.

Looking at her front on, and suddenly quite close to her face, he could see each one of her freckles. The light dotting of colour smattered across her face like a constellation. He wanted to memorise all of them, burn them into his memory. His eyes narrowed fractionally in consideration.

He promised himself he would never forget her when their long journey was over and she would no doubt want to go back to her cosy home or carry on to see the rest of the world without him.

He should never have gotten attached.

He was just convenient, that's all. He wasn't invaluable to her. Not possibly like she was to him.

And yet here he was, with the girl who he had finally admitted (to himself, he could never tell her) meant the world to him. Someone he trusted more than anyone else, someone who let him in. Someone who never ever made him feel lonely ever again.

This girl who was his friend. His best friend he ever had, and no one would ever know just how lucky he was. Or unlucky, depending on your perspective.

There was only one of her, and hell if he wasn't going to treat her as his most treasured possession. Which she was.

When he saw the corners of her mouth curl up into a small smile, his mind went into overdrive. He vaguely even processed his own actions because  _who cares_ , when there's someone like _her_ to focus on instead.

His fingers flattened out over her skin, just under her jaw. His gloved thumb traced featherlight patterns over her cheek. He felt something gently touching his other hand and looked down to see Marinette slipping her tiny one into his in reassurance.

The freezing weather was thrown out the window, when his nerves were suddenly very acutely alight with fire where his hands touched her.

"We'll make it." She said as though she had never been so sure of anything in her life, with a smile on her face and a kindling warmth in her eyes. His heart gave a kickstart. She really had no idea how much of him was at her complete mercy.

The clawed hand on her face fell back to his side and his body turned forwards while his head stayed glued in her direction. She squeezed his hand in an unspoken promise that set his soul on fire. He was putty in her fingers. She would never know just the kind of things she did to him and his weak state of mind.

Her smile widened and her eyes impossibly brightened, like a newly lit candle, and he knew then and there that wherever this girl went, he did too.

And he was going to see to it he die before they ever split up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying so hard with this fic you have no idea  
> Super short chapter that I'm not 100% happy with but I'm not great at elaboration. Like it just turns into rambling shit tbh  
> I actually started this before Halloween, and it was going to be a oneshot that I'd post on the day, but it didn't happen and I liked the idea too much to throw it away. I ended up changing the plot so many times, like this is going to be a lot darker than the original which's rating was T.  
> I wrote the first chapter over a few months and it was like, what? 8,000 words and only ⅔ finished. But it didn't settle right and I hated it. Might bring back elements of it later, we'll see.
> 
> Also that sin tag capitalised itself at some point good god


	2. Right From the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some background info feat Adrien being a tiny precious sunflower seed

_When Gabriel was still the prince of Paris, he met a woman named Crestiènne. She had long, wavy brown hair held together by a plait, and the darkest blue eyes that bordered on grey. Her skin was crystal white and kept scratch-less and clean. She was extravagant and zealous, with an icy attitude. Despite not having royal blood, she was treated like a princess. Which Gabriel never understood._

_She was from a close family of nobles in west Paris, and had been arranged to be his future wife and princess of Montèlieux._

_The prince, undeterred, said nothing. As he was told to always agree with his father's actions. His mother told him not to question them, or he would be strictly reminded of his place. She said that one day he would be king and then he would understand his father's motives._

_His father was stoic and cynical, his kingship brining with it an obsessive fierceness to the upholding of the law. He watched as his father, perhaps threatened by his place on the throne, order countless upon countless convictions and sentences. Most to death, plenty inaccurately labelled as guilty. But he said nothing because these things were necessary, and they were just a fact of life. Not everyone got to live it._

_Knowing no else he agreed, again, and said nothing more._

_His father eventually married him off to the maiden Crestiènne a few years later, and he came to accept having his life dictated. That was just how it was. That was how it was supposed to be._

_He didn't mind being married to Crestiènne at all. She was charming and fiery, and most important of all, his father approved of her. But there was something else to her, something a bit odd._

_Being the person everyone wanted him to be, he ignored it because it wasn't his place to question his father's decision or the things that were happening around him. He let it go as his own naivety._

_They did eventually grow closer, and he found himself enjoying her presence a lot more than he had anticipated. She opened up to him, and let him in. She told him she would sacrifice herself for him in a heartbeat, that he would be the greatest king Paris had ever seen. That he was the best part of her every day._

_Of course, because he was so trusting of others, he believed her and he would smile when she praised him._

_She never had a reason to hurt him, and she never did._

_After a couple years of being together, Crestiènne had a son who Gabriel named Félix, derived from part of his own father's name. She said that he would be a powerful ruler one day, that he would change the entire kingdom of France._

_One night while she was holding the newborn child, she spun on him and promised him with a dangerous fire in her eyes that this child, "would **be** , **the** **king**!"_

_Something in his gut was screaming at him to warn his father about_ something _, but what, he didn't know. What was wrong with what she was saying? He already knew Félix would be a king anyway._

_For the first time in a long time, he felt as though he couldn't always trust the people close to him. Maybe shouldn't was the right word._

_His father was getting older and soon Gabriel would have to take his place. He'd accepted that a while ago._

_He never ended up mentioning what Crestiènne had said, and he later realised what a huge mistake he'd made._

_The entire kingdom went into madness when late one night, Crestiènne tried to kill the king._

_But she was reckless and anger got in the way of her diligence, and in the end it was her downfall. She was caught, but not before she had managed to inflict severe wounds to the old man._

_After she'd elaborated her intentions to kill him using magic, she said it was because she never forgave him when he ordered her brother to be unjustly murdered._

_With no choice, and his father too weak to decide her fate, Gabriel sentenced her to death feeling betrayed and crestfallen._

_She kicked and screamed for her son all the way to her cell. She cursed the Agreste's, and told them their bloodline ends here._

_Within two days she was publicly burned by the stake._

_  
Not wanting to give up his son, Gabriel refused to let his father's men take Félix from him. Gabriel defended him and said that he would not grow up like his mother, and that he would be adequately educated about the strict laws of Montèlieux. In no position to disagree with him, they let the child go._

_The king was eventually unable to stay alive and died after a few painful days. Crowned as the new king of Paris, Gabriel knew that if he wanted to do this right, he couldn't be the gentle boy he used to be. He was never going to take chances with magicians ever again. They were too unpredictable._

_Life in Paris went on as usual for another 3 years, when he met Elaine in a far Northern region of France during his visit at a campaign held there._

_She was the youngest of two and had mid-back length blonde hair. Her eyes were the most striking green he'd ever seen, and he ended up spending a lot more time with her than he was supposed to. (He was the king, who cared)_

_After spending a month in the area to discuss the importance of the defence systems on the outskirts near England, he invited Elaine to come back with him to Paris. Having her father's permission she left with him and his Knights back to Château de Montèlieux._

_His time with Elaine was much less tense than what it was with Crestiènne. He felt himself genuinely enjoying the afternoons they spent in the castle's library, or when they would take walks through the king's gardens with seeds for the birds. He never would have guessed he enjoyed half the things they did together, but he figured that part of the reason was because he was with such a happy soul. It was contagious._

_When Gabriel asked her to marry him, she agreed in a heartbeat and stayed in Montèlieux. With her now living there permanently as the queen, she took it to herself to look after Félix with the help of her maids._

_When Félix was 4, his half-brother Adrien was born._

_And it was because of his half brother, son of both the current king and queen, that Félix would not be the heir to the throne._

 

* * *

 

_Four_

 

"Félix!" Sunny hair and even sunnier eyes raced across the stone floor in a blur to the older child.

Félix acknowledged him with a sideways glance as he approached the table he was situated at.

Adrien gave his biggest smile and stood up on his tippy-toes to reach the furniture's height, his hands supporting his weight on it's surface.

When Adrien didn't reply right away, Félix hummed in question to prompt him on.

"Mum says there's fruit on the trees in the garden! Félix, let's go eat one, come on. You have to come with me." He pleaded, tugging on his brother's sleeve.

"Adrien, you're old enough to go without me. Ask your mother to take you." He averted his attention back to his notebook again. "That way you won't eat something you shouldn't."

The younger boy dropped back to the flats of his feet and tipped his head back with a dramatic sigh.

"Fé— _lix_." He dragged out. "But you're my brother, you're always so much fun–"

"Half brother." His _brother_ corrected.

"Ugh, why does it make a difference." He sighed loudly again and slumped against the table.

Félix didn't protest again. He didn't have an answer to that.

Adrien narrowed his eyes at the older boy, who was still more interested in his writing.

Stamping a foot into the cold sandstone floor the blond adamantly sat himself on the ground and crossed his arms.

The quill in Félix's hand went slack and fell to the side. He brought his long pale fingers to his temples and lightly pressed into them.

"Adrien, please..." He directed his eyes to look sidelong at the pouting child and finally caved.

" _Okay_ , I hear you. I'll take you around the gardens."

The grin that split his brother's face was an instantaneous reaction. He practically leapt to his feet and pulled on his sleeve lightly again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Félix mumbled and took Adrien's hand in his, attempting to quieten the enthusiastic noises coming from the shorter one.

While remaining much more collected than the skittish puppy of a brother he had, (Adrien was practically skipping) Félix walked him down the corridors. The former called out multiple friendly greetings to other maids and servants, and pretty much literally anyone who crossed their path.

They were all incredibly fond of the endlessly optimistic child and his completely antithetical older brother, returning greetings and smiling at Félix for taking care of him.

Félix let Adrien drag him along until they stopped at the familiar door of his mother's room. Shoving the door open and sticking his head inside, Adrien called out for Elaine.

"Maman?"

A muffled noise of shuffling returned to them before the queen appeared, hurriedly walking over to her sons at the door to see what they wanted.

"Adrien?" She replied before looking up past the half opened door to see the other sibling. "Hello as well, Félix." She smiled warmly at them.

Félix gave a half-smile that was usually only ever saved for his mother. "Hi maman."

Elaine's smile widened impossibly. Félix saw so much of Adrien in her. He wished he was blood related to his lovely woman.

"You two off somewhere? In the castle I should hope." She chuckled behind her hand.

"Just to the gardens." Félix explained. "All the spring fruits are ripening."

"Oh, lovely!" She beamed at the eldest before crouching down in front of Adrien who was still vibrating with excitement.

"Hey, Adrien. Do you think..." She started, changing her tone to one of a more patronising level as she talked to the six-year-old. "You could look for the little tree by the pond with the big red fruit and pick me the best one you can find?"

Félix felt Adrien's fingers tighten around his excitedly, eyes widening with every word until his elation was through the roof and probably sitting on a cloud somewhere.

"Yes, yeah! I will, I can get it now! I'll be ba- right back!" He stumbled over his words almost as much as his feet as he frantically scrambled past Félix to run off down the hall. He seriously had amazing amounts of adrenaline. Letting go of his hand so he wasn't yanked back, Félix turned back to his mother.

"You'd better take care of him." She sighed and rolled her eyes fondly at the overzealous child. She pulled Félix in for a hug and he nodded, returning it loosely.

"Thank you for being there for him." She said as she pulled away back at an arms length. "Now go, or you'll never get him back." She joked and stood back upright.

With another nod he turned out the door and chased after his brother.

"Adr– Adrien, be careful! Sorry Miss. Adrien, slow down, wait for me!"

 

* * *

 

Adrien kicked a foot out in front of him as he skipped down the pathway, stirring up a few dead leaves.

Sunlight bathed half of the courtyard in a rich orange afternoon hue.

His hand was back in Félix's as they walked through the well-kept gardens.

"Be careful of the uneven paving–" He warned lightly just as Adrien hit one with his toe and doubled forward.

The blond looked back at him and smiled cheerfully. "Oh."

"Yes, marvellous demonstration." He smirked down at him. "But we're going to try and not do that. I don't want to have to explain to mum why her son has scraped knees and palms."

He bent down and grabbed his hand to pull him back up. "Even though I'm sure she'd understand."

He let go gently so Adrien could brush himself off.

"So, should we find maman some fruit?" The smaller asked up at his brother.

"How about we do that last, so it doesn't risk getting bruised." He said, pointedly raising a brow.

Adrien pulled a grin out of his never-ending supply and waved his arms around beside him. "Good idea."

"I know. Now come on, hold my hand again so you don't trip over so much." It wasn't a question, as his older brother reached to take his hand again. Once together, Adrien pulled him along to some tall tree with dark fruit.

"Can you eat this?" He asked, picking one off the ground that had fallen.

Félix bent down to hit it out of his hand. "Not that one." He reached up as far as he could and took one off a low branch.

"Here, it's a fig. We'll take what we pick and eat them when we get back." He replied cooly, passing Adrien the fig. "Be a little gentle, they're very delicate."

Adrien stared down at the funny-looking shape of it. It was soft and squishy. He brought it to his face and sniffed it. It smelled slightly sweet.

Pulling his hand out of Félix's, who was still busy looking for another good piece of fruit, he brought it up beside him, poised. He rolled the fruit over in his hands a few times before black engulfed his raised hand and he put it over the soft body of the fig, eyes buzzing with wonder.

He heard a yell from Félix that he half-attempted to muffle as he reached over the blonde's shoulder and covered his hands with his own.

" _Adrien!_ " He hissed. "You're not supposed to do that when we're anywhere _but_ our rooms!" He hastily stepped around Adrien and crouched in front of him, partially blocking any possible prying eyes that wandered by.

He pried his hands apart to see a dead-looking, mushy piece of post-fig.

"Augh, Adrien that's gross, you need to wash your hands. What did you think would happen?"

The younger boy looked down sheepishly. "I don't know, it just seemed fun at the time... I'm sorry. But I don't get it, I want to use it. I don't like having to hold it back all the time." He defended weakly, though he knew it wasn't really an excuse. He was well aware of the policies concerning magic.

"Magic is against the law, even if it's not always bad." He sighed, explaining as gently as he could for the millionth time.

Adrien was silent for a moment.

"When you're king, do you promise to change that?" He mumbled dejectedly, but Félix didn't miss the hope creep into his voice.

Félix put his palm on the top of Adrien's head and smiled.

"Of course I will. And you'll be my best ambassador."

Adrien had no idea what that even meant but he smiled anyway.

Félix's tone softened. "Here, let's just clean you up. We can get another one." He stood up and took Adrien to the pond at the end of the pleasaunce.

He washed his hands off and Félix picked him another fig.

Carefully, he put it in his small bag.

They ended up picking a few more things (mulberries, plums, pears, apples) without anymore trouble, Adrien taking great care of them this time. Before leaving they went back to the pond to collect the large red fruits, which Félix explained were called pomegranates.

It was getting late when Félix suggested they head back. Only about a quarter of the courtyard now was touching sunlight.

Félix took the bag from Adrien and lead them both back to the royals' suite on the southern wing. They passed through the halls a bit hurriedly, that Adrien had trouble keeping up.

They arrived back at the queen's room – this time Félix opening the door.

"Maman, we're back."

The queen turned around in her chair by a vanity and looked between the bag and the two brothers for a moment, friendly smile already waiting for them.

"And? How did you go?" Her eyes following Adrien as he bounded over and stopped near her legs. She looked back up as Félix followed behind and took the pomegranate out of the bag to pass it to her.

"Adrien picked it." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

The boy in question swung his head up to look at his mother with a proud grin.

"Thank you very much Adrien, it looks perfect." She brushed his fringe back with her free hand and kissed his forehead.

"You two were out there for a while, it's pretty late. Adrien, you should probably eat some supper and go to bed. I'll have someone drop it off for you." She lightly pushed him back towards Félix.

"Félix will take you back." She nodded in Félix's direction and stood up to walk over to a large table in the middle of the room. She came back with a dark wooden bowl in her hands and gave it to the duo.

"You can put your fruit in this. Both of you go now, your food will be there in a minute." Elaine ushered them out the door.

Adrien, occupied with flipping the bowl over to look at it from all angles stepped into the hallway with his brother.

"Thanks maman," Félix called over his shoulder, holding the strap of the bag with one hand and waving with the other.

Adrien looked up and rushed out a quick goodbye before hurrying after his older brother.

They returned to their shared room and put the fruit in the bowl. Servants came shortly with two plates for them and set their dishes on the table, leaving with a farewell and a ' _have a good night_ '.

Adrien practically wolfed down his blackbird, while Félix opted for a more refined approach, taking his time.

Changing into more comfortable clothes, the two of them laid down in their beds.

Adrien wrapped himself with his blanket and sunk down into his pillows, the weight of the day catching up to him.

"G'night Félix." He murmured, voice muffled by fabric. He was out like a light before he could hear his brother's reply. If he was even awake himself to make one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, I was pretty serious about the historical inaccuracy part  
> omfg I've done medieval history I've researched so many tiny details, I've even watched Merlin ffs and I still have no idea what I'm doing  
> I'm trying I swear to g od, just don't look into it
> 
> Also ahaha can you tell that I'm not good at literally any form of interaction ever  
> I should just retire now and write poetry all day with twelve cats to keep me company
> 
> I would have liked to cram more plot into this chapter but notes is getting laggy and I'm gonna end up rushing it if I do so  
> We'll just have to make do with short chapters for now. They're probably all gonna end up around this length anyway.
> 
> Ps going on holidays, where hopefully I'll be super relaxed and will have heaps of spare time to write! No idea about wifi, so it could be a while until the next update, but I'll definitely be back from January 8th on


	3. The Writing Desk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life would be so much easier if things worked out without any bumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I'm a _big_ idiot and only realised the flaw giving Adrien 3 mutations would give the future plot. So I simplified it. He's only got 2, and his bad luck is a natural side effect of his destructive trait. So I won't make it a mutation. It would just get too confusing and I fucking suck because I only really realised this now so please just kill me with a guillotine I stg

Félix's dark eyes watched the sleeping boy correspondent to him, already knocked out like a light.

The moon's light slipped through a crack in the curtains, etching a harsh silver line across the bed quit. Félix wasn't even sure if he would sleep that night. Actually forget that, he was almost certain he wouldn't.

On the contradictory, his brother apparently would quite easily. He had dozed off with a drowsy "g'night Félix" which was followed by a brief silence that ended in steady breathing. After sleeping in the same room together for 4 years, Félix knew him well enough to know how he sounded when he was fast asleep.

He exhaled heavily and tore his eyes away from his brother, head turning back towards the sliver of light filtering gently into the room. The rest of his body followed until he was lying on his back. He could feel his eyelids droop with exhaustion but he was already far, far beyond sleeping point.

A groan grumbled out of his throat, and he brought his fingers up to rub his eyes. Nighttime was honestly agonising. Not only did it go on forever, but he never slept. He never slept, because his body was too caught up in keeping him awake, despite his best efforts in the otherwise.

Part of it made him want to forcefully beat his brain out for having such _utterly flawless_ logic.

With his eyes now being assaulted by bright moonlight, even though pretty, made them water and he had to look away again. He opted for gazing straight up. And staring.

He wasn't sure how long he zoned out, or successfully recall what thoughts had crossed his mind (if any at all). But when his eyes came into focus again and the fog in his head cleared he changed his mind again and flopped over, the way he was before, with a sigh.

Adrien was still fast asleep, and hadn't moved a muscle.

Deciding to play it safe rather than accidentally-sorry, Félix rested his heavy eyelids shut and recapped the day like he did every night before he went to sleep (tried to). Getting more medicine to help him sleep from the castle's physician. Talking briefly to his father about his academic progress, and whether his role as an official member of Montèlieux royalty was clear or not (unbearably boring. _Yes father, I'm aware of the expectation everyone has of me. No, I'm not going to soil your reputation, father_ ). Spending the afternoon reading in his and Adrien's shared study (not that Adrien really used the hundreds of books for anything). Writing a little bit, trying his hand at different literature techniques his tutor talked to him about. Adrien bothering him with his whimsical fantasies that just required his absolute attention (picking fruit: A real childhood wonder. It got you thinking.). Adrien disintegrating a poor piece of fig.

His eyes opened again.

_Ah. That's right. Adrien disintegrating a poor piece of fig._

Félix nearly hit himself. He'd forgotten to tell his mother again.

She'd approached him one day and quietly asked him if he could mention any time Adrien uses his powers inappropriately and puts his life in danger. Quite literally.

As much as Adrien could honestly grate at anyone's nerves within a ten foot radius, Félix could never truthfully say he wanted that for him. He didn't. Ratbag or not, Adrien was still his brother.

 _Half-brother_. The very back alleys of his mind nagged at him. Why the thought occurred to him every time, he didn't know. He loathed it.

Every time he felt contrite and... Regretfully concurrence to. To what? He had no idea. It was hardly a yes or no question, let alone a question at all. It was a statement, solid and sure, and even a bit... Snide. He hated it about himself. Another part of his subconscious brain that needed to shut up. He felt so ashamed every time he nodded along his agreement. And yet every time it happened in a heartbeat.

It almost felt like something out of his control.

 _'Ugh'_ -ing and clutching the blanket closer to him, Félix dragged his eyes lazily over the fraction of the dark room he could see from his pillow, eyes blinking slowly.

Well nevermind, he was wrong, his new medicine seemed to be helping well. Looks like there was time for sleeping for everybody. Including him. He would have to tell the alchemist tomorrow.

Just before he closed his eyes for the last time that night, something black and flickering; and shimmering with purple, wavered on the edge of his vision for a fraction of a second, before he was knocked out by dreams and left to forget it.

 

* * *

  

Adrien was awoken to blinding sunlight, battering in through a small crack in the curtains.

He sat up to rub his eyes and swallowed a yawn. Beside him, Félix's covers had been thrown back and their owner was no where to be seen. Looking around the rest room he found it similarly empty.

Adrien shrugged and slid out of bed to the cold stone. He padded slowly across floor to Félix's writing desk. Propping himself up on the chair, he lifted his knees up to catch it's surface with his feet, squatting down on the piece of furniture. He peered over the edge of his brother's desk, looking for possible wet ink or any signs of him recently leaving. Instead, the black ink looked like it had been dry for about a day already. No Félix here.

Not that it was a problem really. Félix came and went; he was never one to wait for other people all the time. Not like his mother, anyway. He was probably called up for something.

Adrien lazily let his attention wander over the rest of the contents of his brother's messy-looking desk. Some pretty quills, likely unused birthday gifts. A letter opener, a candle, a stamp, some red envelope wax; the typical. His line of sight stopped on a tiny sparkle that caught his eye. He frowned and leaned forward over the desk. In the corner of the dark wooden furniture, where the low side panel met with the back-stand, was a small, almost unnoticeable puddle of purplish... Sparkles? Dust? Lights? Tiny, tiny pieces of amethyst? He'd never heard of gemstones giving off light.

Adrien blinked, no less confused than he was before. He reached out to touch the substance, about the size of a drop of water, and found that it reacted to his touch and glowed softly.

" _Magic_." Adrien whispered in awe.

It glowed brighter before it shuddered violently and went out, promptly disappearing. Adrien made a noise of surprise and shoved his face closer to the empty space. He tilted his head at different angles to try and make its outline out again, but it seemed to have vanished completely. He sat back with a whine and deepened his frown.

Now with his temporary entertainment gone, he let his head fall back and huffed.

Grumbling, he reluctantly got himself up again, slipped off the chair and wandered aimlessly out of the room.

  

* * *

 

 

Adrien walked beside Gabriel as he took him and his brother to the grassy training grounds used by the knights of Montèlieux. Adrien looked all around him in fascination, as armoured men began sparring with each other a little ways off in the centre of the arena.

Gabriel lead them around the edges of the field to avoid them interfering and approached a middle aged looking man with wavy brown hair, who Adrien figured must be a grand master.

Gabriel held his hands behind his back as he spoke with the nobleman; and the kingsmen that had accompanied him and his sons there copied, standing protectively around their superiors.

It took about .5 seconds for Adrien to lose any and all interest in what his father was doing and turned to face the chevaliers. Towards the far end of the field, two men were currently locked in an ornery-looking spar, both incredibly relentless towards each other. They were both wearing proper armour and each wielded a sword and patterned shield. Generally unless you had your own shield, the castle provided a few plain armaments. These two however, had their own personal designs printed on theirs to create unique escutcheons. They must have been from high status, or very wealthy families. Adrien started silently rooting for the one with the cooler looking shield.

A grin forced its way across blonde boy's face (not that he tried to stop it) as he continued his engrossed staring. At some point, there was a brief pause as the two were almost elbow to elbow with their swords locked together between them — before the commotion revved up again and the clinking of metal monotonously cut through the air.

He felt someone shift behind him and looked up to see his father had finished exchanging information and was now crouching down beside him. He had a pleased look on his face as he watched the fighters. Offering his father a smile, Adrien turned his head back to the conflict.

"Do you like watching them spar, Adrien?" His father asked him, his voice gentle and inviting.

Not able to think of an acceptable sentence, he nodded vigorously instead.

"You could be a fine knight some day. All you need to do is practise." His father assured promisingly, petting his hair and standing back up.

Adrien heard footsteps behind him and turned to see his father walking towards a weaponry stand. He watched on in confusion, until his father pulled out a sword from the rack to demonstrate and the realisation sank in, and he practically jumped up and sprinted over.

Gabriel had bent down to kneel one leg flat on the grass while the other supported his weight. He had the sword turned on its side, flat in his palms for his son to see.

"This is a standard arming sword. Usually we only use these kinds while training since they are easy and simple, and other types are not as suitable." Félix had wandered up to watch. "On the battlefield however, you can use a variety of different types, though then again an arming sword is most common." He explained.

Adrien soaked it all up, nodding eagerly at each detail mentioned. Félix seemed much less interested, but at least he had the decency to pretend he cared. Looking back down at the shiny blade Adrien reached a hand out and ran a finger down the light dip in the middle.

"That's the fuller." He looked up as his father nodded at the shallow dip he was prodding. When his father didn't continue he stared back down and pointed to a random spot on the sword.

"What's this?"

"The cross-guard. So your hands don't slip forward while holding the grip. For safety, and so it can be picked up without trouble, the base of the blade will generally be blunt anyway, but you can't afford to slip up in battle."

Adrien made an _'aaah'_ , sound of understanding before pointing at another spot to ask for it's name.

Félix had stopped trying to look engaged, his gaze lazily wandering over the forestry down the hill behind them with disinterest.

"You will be taught all about sword types and different parts of them when you're older." Gabriel continued.

"Not that old, though right?" The blonde boy pouted.

"Just a few more years, probably." The older man smiled.

Just as a poorly-contained noise of excitement was about to bubble out past the 4-year-old's teeth, his father slid the sword off his knee and straightened up, placing the blade back in on the rack.

When the King made to leave, Adrien felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Félix looking at him and pointedly beckoning him to follow.

Reluctantly separating himself from his spot by the training field, he continued on behind Gabriel and Félix, turning to talk to one of the guards accompanying them instead.

"Do you think I could be a knight one day?" He asked excitedly up at the tall man, unfazed by their enormous age (and height, and status) gap.

The man looked away and pursed his lips as if considering it.

"I think your father would love to have his sons in Montèlieux's defence forces. You would make a great young warrior with that determination, Your Excellency." He smiled down at the boy.

Adrien's childish grin grew impossibly wider at the answer and he hissed a quiet cry of victory to himself, eyes shining bright.

Gabriel didn't falter as he strode down the corridors back towards the royal chambers. Adrien had some trouble keeping up; Félix doing a much better job than him.

When they passed the threshold that officially marked the royal's vicinity, the king nodded at his guards and they promptly left them to go back to their earlier tasks.

Gabriel lead them still, further down the long, open hall. Turning a few corners, they arrived at a room Adrien knew by heart: his mother's. His father knocked on the wood, pushing in the door when he heard an affirmation.

Elaine was speaking with her maid, but looked up when the three of them entered the room.

A smile instantly took over her expression, her eyes warm with visible fondness.

"Hello, you three. You were out there a little while." She greeted cheerfully, nodding her maid off and walking over. Adrien found his feet carrying him over to her before he even knew what he was doing and flung himself at her. Happily complying, Elaine bent down and held his arms gently as he buzzed about how he wanted to be a knight and fight for Montèlieux.

"I bet your father's happy to hear that." She commented raising a brow up at her husband who'd come up to stand behind his youngest son.

Félix on the other hand, winced from the doorway and slowly made his way in. He knew how his father felt about him not showing any interest in combat and the good of the castle's defence. Gabriel was obviously disappointed in his eldest, having clearly hoped for a more zealous son than Félix. Félix actually felt it was just hypocrisy. He got everything from his father, especially since Elaine only appeared in his life after his personality had very much already developed. And his mother was long dead.

Back at the friendly gathering going on in the middle of the room, Elaine had stood back up, her hand captive in Adrien's.

"Why don't you start taking lessons then?" She asked down at him.

"He's a little young don't you think? Give it a year or two." Gabriel chimed in.

Elaine snorted. "He can look after himself fine. Just give it one year then." She compromised, looking back down at her only child, either missing or ignoring Gabriel's skeptical brow.

She let go of Adrien's hand when Félix came up and instead rubbed her other son's arm gently, looking him in the eyes.

"You could too if you wanted." She offered.

Félix didn't reply a straight answer, opting to smile awkwardly and shrug.

His father didn't acknowledge Félix further, instead nodding towards his wife and then his youngest. "Adrien. Come with me." He ordered, turning on his heel out the door without waiting.

The boy in object looked between his mother and the doorway questioningly, before leaving her side and hurrying after the king.

After scurrying after his father down the endless corridors, passing through the king's chambers and into a private outdoor patio, he stopped at a stone railing marking the edge of a very steep drop. Slowing himself down, Adrien followed tentatively, stepping up to the wall. His father made no comment when he clambered up and sat on the edge.

Green eyes widened. You could see so much from up here! He drank everything in, frenetically trying to etch everything into his memory. It looked amazing from up here. Suddenly Adrien felt big.

Heavy—but not awkward—silence fell over the both of them. From up here, so far away from everyone, it seemed as though the rest of the kingdom knew of the two of them up there and gone quiet, too.

"Do you see all of that, Adrien?" His father's collected voice cut the air like a ripple in still water.

Cutting his eyes away from the complex stonework of the castle below, he watched his father, wordlessly waiting for him to continue.

"One day all this could be yours." He said it like it was nothing, like it was just casual banter with his son, but Adrien did a complete double-take and nearly choked. _What?_

"W-w-wh—," he stammered, eyes as wide as saucers as he slipped off the railing back onto the ground.. "I-I thought Félix was going to succeed you." He croaked, only half putting in the effort to make it a question. _Uh oh._

His father hummed and it looked like his head nodded the slightest bit. Something clouded his eyes for a moment and Adrien wondered if it was regret.

"Maybe. You must understand it's very unlikely, Adrien. Félix is a wonderful kid, and I know he would do an outstanding job in a leading role." He paused and sighed. "But his mother was a bad person, I don't think it would fair well with the people if they knew her son got kingship rights. By law, it's encouraged the eldest child of both current rulers, if there are any, becomes the heir. He would only become king if something happened to you. Naturally, you and Félix are both princes, but only one of you can be a _Fils de France._ And then after that, King of Montèlieux." Gabriel articulated cooly next to him.

Adrien felt his heart sink and he looked at his palms. "But... Félix is going to be so devastated." He drooped.

Félix would never forgive him. This was all his fault.

"Félix doesn't have the same kind of charm and spark you do. Although resourceful, he would never have been a better king than you." His father was just making him feel worse. He knew he should stop but the way his father spoke about his brother made his throat hurt. He didn't want to get in trouble but he knew he needed to defend his brother.

"Don't say that, Félix would be a wonderful leader! He's so much smarter than me, he's always planning ahead-"

"Are you saying you don't want the responsibility of leadership for yourself?" His tone had gained an edge that Adrien knew meant he'd gone too far and that he wouldn't have a choice when the final decision was made.

Gabriel missed no time, taking his silence for what it was.

"I-it's not that-" The young boy defended himself quietly.

"I expect a lot from you, Adrien. You can't just avoid anything you feel like." He spoke sternly, stepping away from the edge and going back inside.

Adrien was torn. He couldn't tell Félix, he would be heartbroken. After all, Adrien was only supposed to be his ambassador! ( _Whatever that meant, he still didn't actually know._ ) Félix was the one who was going to be king!

His brow began to hurt from frowning and he grit his teeth in frustration. Pushing away from the edge, he crept to the door and looked inside for his father, before sprinting out of the room when the coast was clear. His throat was burning with guilt when he made it back to his room, and he was miserable. In his flustered state, he accidentally ignored any maids that asked him about his dinner, and stumbled into his room so he could clumsily throw himself at the covers of his bed. He sighed again and pressed his cheek to the quilt.

How could he betray his brother like that? Sure, there was law involved but _he_ was the one stopping Félix from getting what he always wanted. _He_ was the problem. All he ever wanted to do was make other people happy, and he'd been unable to do even the simple task of that. He'd never wanted to disappoint his brother; whose opinion he valued more than anyone's.

Angrily hitting his sheets with his fists he marched over to the window and sat down. He was in the dark honestly, he was totally lost. It's not that he _didn't_  want to be King someday, it's just that he cared more about Félix's wellbeing. Hopefully his father wouldn't say anything until coronation day. Until then, Adrien would just pretend he had no idea of the monarch's most probable plans.

Unable to surpress another sigh, Adrien leant against the window and ended up eventually falling asleep in his spot when he refused to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long and it sUcks, I had a huge writers block for like two and a half fucking weeks and ended up having to _force_ myself to get off my god-forbid ass and start writing. It was actually just starting to go okay until me, being the fucking beast that I am, managed to forget _two days_ off my contraception pills (the first one having dropped down the sink, so I figured "it's just one day, I'll be fine!") and now am PAYING FOR IT WITH THE MOST PHYSICALLY DRAINING CRAMPS EVER and I also had gone without sleep for 37 hours and basically I'm tired and pissy but still trying cause this Fic matters to me and so do you guys
> 
> Also I don't really want to end every chapter on sleeping but? Honestly? If I was a 4-year-old upset because they hurt their brother who means the world to them I'd probably fall asleep on the windowsill too


End file.
